


Drizzling Sunshine

by Lady_of_Greenwood



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Greenwood/pseuds/Lady_of_Greenwood
Summary: In which Yata Misaki makes Fushimi Saruhiko's world a little brighter, Doumiyoji Andy barely escapes death and Munakata Reisi probably plans everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: References to Lost Small World and the Drama "In The Park" abound

Doumiyoji Andy needed to die.

He wasn't sure yet how or when or how much he was willing to pay to make it look like an accident, but Fushimi Saruhiko knew that Doumiyoji was not going to see the end of this week.

“That _idiot_ ,” he grumbled to himself, glaring down at his PDA. Doumiyoji had managed to once again attach the wrong map to his report and Saruhiko, too exhausted to double check, now found himself in the park he had been at last time after having been led in circles from one manga cafe to the next. Again. “He'll be doing paperwork for a month once I get back.” If he ever got back. Doumiyoji was apparently determined to find every nook and cranny in this city. Were some of these streets even on the official map?

With a heavy sigh Saruhiko dropped onto a nearby park bench, stretching out his aching legs with a groan, and let his head fall back against the backrest to stare up at the overcast sky, exposing his face and glasses to the light drizzle that had been going on all day.

“Please God, let me die.”

Since the destruction of the Dresden Slate, SCEPTER 4 as such had lost its primary purpose of finding and supervising Strains across the city, but somehow reintegrating those former Strains into society proved to be a much more complicated and lengthy process than just finding and detaining the dangerous ones.

Especially since the Captain seemed content making Saruhiko do all the leg work while he sat in his office doing puzzles and sipping tea.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue at the Munakata in his mind and got a sparkly smile and gleaming glasses as a reply. He never felt like bashing his head against a stone wall as much as he did right now.

How many days had he spent walking around this damn city this week alone? Maybe he should invest in one of those step counters Kamo was so proud of...then he had something to prove he was working too hard _and_ something to throw at Munakata's head all in one package. A win-win.

But that would mean spending money.

And _social interactions_.

Ugh.

“Saruhiko?” Hey, when did the sun come out?

Saruhiko blinked a few raindrops out of his eyes and stretched his neck until the upside down visage of Yata Misaki swam into his vision. “Misaki...yo.”

“Yo.” Misaki skated around the bench until he stood next to Saruhiko – who moved his head as if it weighted a ton, which it sort of did after the day he'd had so far – and waved his hand vaguely at the park around them. “What are you doing out here? And in _uniform_.”

“What else, working of course,” Saruhiko replied, shrugging.

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you look real busy.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again and lifted his leg, planting his boot on Misaki's hip and boosting him a few meters away. Misaki snorted but didn't complain, instead just kicked his board up to lean onto it like a cane once he had skated back over. “Very mature.”

“Screw you,” Saruhiko replied lightly with a small smirk. “I'm taking a break. Been walking all day.”

“Don't you have those fancy trucks to drive you everywhere?”

“Hidaka crashed one last week so Lieutenant Awashima refuses to let us use them for anything but emergencies,” Saruhiko explained. “Damn banshee.”

Misaki hummed and cocked his head. “Damn straight, you look exhausted. You okay?”

“Yeah, just busy recently.” He shrugged again. “And you? Not teaching brats to skate today?”

“Nah, their dad told them to stay home,” Misaki said, shrugging as well. “Says he doesn't want them to catch a cold in case it starts coming down for real. Che, a little rain hasn't killed anyone yet.”

“You shouldn't compare normal people to yourself, you beast,” Saruhiko replied.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That you have stamina for days, never get sick no matter how many colds your siblings throw at you and that you could probably lift Kamamoto over your head.” He waved his hand around lazily, indicating his own lanky self. “Compared to that, us normal people _don't_ compare.”

Misaki bared his teeth in an almost vicious smile and nudged at Saruhiko's boot with the toe of his sneaker. “Maybe if we put some meat on that twig you call a body you could do all that too.”

“Nah,” Saruhiko said, fending of Misaki's prodding with his heel. “I'm made for agility and speed, not idiotic strength like you.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Misaki retorted with a smirk. “Seriously though, you're kinda in the way stretched out like that. You're all legs.”

A gift from the man who had called himself his father, with a hint of the woman who was said man's wife and allegedly his mother. “It's the curse of tall people,” he drawled. “You wouldn't understand.”

This time the kick had a bit more strength behind it but not enough to hurt so Saruhiko said “ouch” anyway.

“Wimp.”

“Beast.”

Fuck, his cheeks were starting to ache from all the smiling. What if his face froze like that? The Captain would never let him live it down...then again, he could just add it to the list, right underneath “Hirasaka Douhan is a ninja” and above “legs fell asleep during first meeting which caused a faceplant in puzzle pieces”.

If he did kill Doumiyoji, would that make the list too or would that be grounds for a stern talking to?

“Saruhiko!”

He started badly when Misaki's face suddenly appeared maybe an inch away from his own and he was glad that the resulting skipped heartbeat managed to drain his face of enough blood as to hide the violent blush creeping up his neck.

“Too close!” he exclaimed and pushed Misaki off with a boot against the chest. Gently...sorta. “What?”

Misaki, rubbing a hand over where Saruhiko's boot heel had dug into his breastbone, gave him an odd look. “What the hell was that for?”

“That's my line!”

“Well, you were spacing out!” Misaki defended himself with a half-hearted glare. “Sorry for being concerned, sheesh.” Before Saruhiko could reply Misaki's face fell a little, a mixture of annoyance and genuine worry creeping into his eyes. “That Blue King of yours is running you ragged again, isn't he?”

Of course he was but Misaki didn't need to know that. “Technically he isn't a King any more.”

“Not _a_ King maybe, but _your_ King,” Misaki said with emphasis. “Just like Anna is still _HOMRA's_ King despite not being _a_ King any more. Besides, you're dodging the question.”

And of course Misaki chose today of all days to be strangely perceptive _and_ insightful. He clicked his tongue but didn't reply.

Misaki sighed. “Thas stubbornness of yours is the only thing that will never change about you, huh.” Had Saruhiko not known better, he could have sworn Misaki's voice carried an underlying tone of...fondness. But that couldn't be, that wasn't like Misaki at all. Besides...after everything that happened, why would he sound _fond_ of all things?

By rights, no one would fault him for still being angry at Saruhiko, who had spent years actively trying to antagonise him by hurting him and insulting everything he cared about with every breath.

Why on earth would anyone take him back as readily as Misaki had?

He suppressed the urge to clench his fists, his fingers barely twitching. He really needed a break if his thoughts ran away from him like this.

Fatalistic thinking was one of his specialities on a good day, on a bad day it was his only talent.

And suddenly Misaki was in his face again, amber eyes looking him up and down critically. Had there been even a touch of appreciation in that look, Saruhiko was sure that in his current state he would have been a little too pleased...now, with far too heavy limbs and a black hole where his stomach used to be, he was just confused which in turn meant he was also a little annoyed. “What now?”

Misaki didn't reply at once but frowned deeply, cocking his head this way and that. “Yeah, you've definitely...” He trailed off.

“Definitely what?” Saruhiko bit back. “Did you fall off your board and get a concussion while no one was looking?”

Misaki ignored him for once and stepped in closer. “Seriously, what are they feeding you at that place?”

“Misaki, if you're not gonna make any sense I'll just lea-WOAH!” He didn't manage to finish his sentence because suddenly Misaki reached out, put his hands on Saruhiko's hips and lifted him up over his head as if he weighted nothing.

In this moment Saruhiko remembered two things.

One, that under that baggy shirt and deceptively small frame, Misaki really was stupidly strong and lifting Kamamoto probably wasn't all that hard for him. And two, that Misaki was very good at making his heart skip beats for completely different reasons than surprise or fear.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” Alright, this might have sounded a bit more pissed off if his voice hadn't decided to rise a good octave or two right there.

“Hmm...” Misaki looked very focused, wiggling his arms a little, an almost cute pouty scowl marring his handsome face. _Woah, he really was fucking tired._ “I was right!”

“Right about fucking what, put me down!” How could someone so short be so god damn strong! Sure, Saruhiko wasn't exactly heavy but Misaki was holding him up like that freaking monkey, what's his face, Rafiki did Simba in Lion King. Why the hell did Saruhiko even remember that?!

“You lost weight again.”

For just a second Saruhiko ceased his indignant struggling to look at Misaki as if he had lost his mind. Which he probably had. “Misaki...you do remember I still have knives on me, right? _I really feel like using them right now!_ ”

“Oh, great, so I can detract _another_ three kilograms to make you even less healthy,” Misaki growled. “Seriously, you can't survive off of snacks and soda alone.”

“And you can't survive with a knife lodged in your skull,” Saruhiko countered. “Put. Me. Down!” He was actually a little surprised – and, dare he say, disappointed – when Misaki did set him back on his feet. “What the actual fuck, Misaki?” That idiot should thank whatever god was watching over him that the park was pretty much deserted. If it hadn't been Saruhiko would have had to kill him, and that was bad for both their health.

Misaki once again ignored him. “Alright so, you still don't eat right -” “I'm very busy!” “- and your damn King doesn't take good enough care of you -” “Stop ignoring me!” “- so I'll have to do it for him!”

_Wait, what?_

“Huh?”

“Fushimi Saruhiko!”

“What now?”

Misaki stood up straight and as tall as he could, planting his hand on his upright skateboard like some damn samurai on his sword sheath, and pointed a finger at Saruhiko. “Seven o'clock at my place!”

“Huh?” He sounded like a broken record, god damn it.

“You're gonna break in the middle if you lose any more weight so I'll make you eat better, whether you like it or not!”

“Well, I don't!”

“I don't care that you don't!” If he had his weapon, Saruhiko was pretty sure Misaki would have stomped the ground with it. Instead he used his skateboard which was still pretty effective. How the hell did he even manage that? “As your friend it's my job to make sure you stay healthy! So you'll not be eating at SCEPTER 4 tonight, but you'll be at my place at seven o'clock or I will drag you there, in front of your entire squad!”

_Why did he ever miss this guy anyway?_

“You wouldn't dare!”

“Oh, but you know I would.” Yes, he did know that. “Seven o'clock to the tick. Am I clear?”

He clicked his tongue. He didn't know what else to say.

“Am. I. Clear?!”

“...sure.”

That earned him a grin as bright as a thousand suns. “Nice!”

Saruhiko blinked and fought another blush. “Zero points,” he mumbled, looking off to the side.

Misaki chuckled and when Saruhiko looked back at him he was met with a wistful, yet no less brilliant smile. “Wow, that throws me back.”

Middle school. Easier times. No Clans or Kings to worry about. No Slate. No problems as long as it was just the two of them. Could they ever be again what they were back then? Or had Saruhiko destroyed it all?

No...no, Misaki wouldn't look at him like that if he had. Saruhiko might not always know how to phrase things in a way that even an idiot understood but...Misaki wasn't nearly as dumb as he appeared.

He was a mother hen though. No doubt.

Saruhiko sighed. “Whatever, just take it easy on the vegetables,” he grumbled. “Gotta keep what we throw away to a minimum.”

Misaki laughed. “No worries, I'm making curry! I've been meaning to make you some for a while now anyway.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Saruhiko didn't get to reply, being interrupted by the beeping of Misaki's PDA watch. The watch he'd kept despite everything. “Ah shit, that's Kusanagi-san,” Misaki said after a glance at the display. “I promised I'd help him with the inventory at the bar. Almost forgot about that.”  
Funny how a statement that would have thrown him into a silent fit of jealousy a few years ago only made him sigh a little sadly at the imminent separation, no matter how short-lived it may be. The Captain would probably throw some sparkles around and proclaim “Character development”.

“Well, get going,” he said, making shooing motions with one hand. “If I have to wait even a minute because you're not home, I'm leaving. Just so you know.”  
“Yeah, yeah, you jerk,” Misaki said with a snort and dropped his skateboard. “I'll see you later! Oh, and I'll try getting a few beers from Kusanagi-san for tonight.”

“How is that healthy?”

“Well, you need to loosen up a little,” Misaki teased, poked Saruhiko's side. “We'll eat, drink a bit and then I'll kick your ass in video games! Just like old times.”  
“Except you never beat me.”

Misaki laughed, a sound as wild and free as the flames he used to wield. “True, but I got better,” he said. “I'll not make it easy for you this time.”

“We'll see about that!”

Another grin and Misaki made ready to kick off but he hesitated for just a moment, looking over his shoulder, cheeks dusted red in a way that made Saruhiko wonder where the line between friendship and...more was.

“You know...I really missed this...and you too...”

Saruhiko blinked for a moment and then clicked his tongue, turning his back. To say he was overwhelmed was an understatement. He should say it back, because it was true, but his throat felt as if he had tried to gurgle with barbed wire and razor blades. Misaki however didn't get the hint, just waited silently. Saruhiko could feel his eyes bore into his back, expectant and insistent, but not angry. Understanding. Supportive.

But Saruhiko couldn't say it back, not yet. He wasn't ready. Pulling himself out of self-doubt and despair was an ongoing process, one the Captain had begun with gentle coaxing and the painstakingly careful building of trust between them, a process Misaki was helping along in bounds and leaps but...it was still a long ways from being completed. For years all he had known was that he needed Misaki in his life, believed that the _how_ didn't matter. He'd learned since then what his feelings really were, even if expressing them was still out of his reach.

But...he _had_ made progress.

“100 points.” It was the best he could bring himself to say but apparently it was enough.

“I'll see you later.” He could hear the gentle smile in Misaki's voice, could almost see the soft look in his eyes despite not turning around to look. Then he heard the sound of Misaki's departure, rubber on stone, the whirring of wheels, and he glanced over his shoulder at Misaki's retreating back.

When had the explosive and overly excitable little fireball turned into someone as reliable as HOMRA's vanguard?

When had the kid who had soaked up every single one of Saruhiko's words like a sponge grown into a steady rock to lean on when the storm threatened to blow him over?

Saruhiko wasn't sure, had probably missed the entire growth process, but somehow that was one detail that didn't bother him. Because this protectiveness, this caring, was something only Saruhiko got to experience.

Saruhiko knew Misaki cared about and protected Anna as much as he could but...somehow this and that felt as different as night was to day. He couldn't explain it, but that's what it felt like.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What a day.”

Doumiyoji might actually not need killing, now that he thought about it. Though he would have to make sure to erase any video evidence the city-wide security cameras might have captured of this, even if he had to break a few laws and _hack_ in. If the Captain ever got wind of this he would definitely never...hold on...

Now that he thought about it Munakata had looked through every report from yesterday already and told Saruhiko to use Doumiyoji's specifically...had been...very adamant about it in fact...

Oh no.

Oh _no!_

_Oh no, he did **not!**_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that scene in Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun where Chiyo remembers how he picked her up? Yeah, I shouldn't be allowed to rewatch that scene ever again.


End file.
